The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:

At one stride comes the dark;

With far-heard whisper o’er the sea,

Off shot the spectre-bark.

–

We listened and looked sideways up!

Fear at my heart, as at a cup,

My life-blood seemed to sip!

The stars were dim, and thick the night,

The steersman’s face by his lamp gleamed white;

From the sails the dew did drip—

Till clomb above the eastern bar

The horned moon, with one bright star

Within the nether tip.